The third day of your honeymoon finds us sitting at your kitchen table, using the knives my parents gave you as a wedding gift to whittle wooden stakes from broken chair legs. I spent my whole life in love with you, and even allowed myself a brief moment of hope that you might return my affection one drunk morning when we crossed over the line between friendship and something more.<br><br>Then you went and got married. To a vampire.<br><br>When you called me for help killing her, how could I say no?

Til Death

The timeshare was nice, right on the beach, with a breezy open floor plan and easy access to the nightlife. We hit the clubs as if we were college kids again, me guzzling drinks and subtly redirecting any female advances I got your way. Always the wingman, that’s me. You’d never made it as a ladies’ man on your own.


Chapter 2